Dick and his comrades watched the shells in their flight, noting the trails of white smoke they left behind, and then the showers of earth that flew up when they burst.

It was rather a pleasant occupation to watch them.

In a way it broke the monotony of a long summer day.
They did not know that Polk, the bishop-general, was arriving at that moment in the Southern camp with five thousand men.

Bragg had come, too, but he left the command to Polk, who outranked Hardee, and the three together listened to the long-range cannonade, while they also examined with powerful glasses the Union army which was now mostly lying on the ground.
Dick himself felt a strong temptation to sleep.

The march through the heat that morning had been dusty and tiresome, and the warm wind that blew over him made his eyelids very heavy.